[He could say a lot of things to that, he thinks, and several of them flash through his mind. Some of them are flirtatious, and some are sad, and some continue along that deflecting line.
Polnareff finally tugs off Jotaro's hat. After a moment, he tosses it over at him.]
Yours, huh?
[He's not. Or-- well, he is and he isn't, and these days there's a pretty big distinction between the two. Yours, and he thinks about the start of this conversation, about what to get Kakyoin for his birthday, about he and Jotaro being a pair. You can get things for him I can't, because Jotaro and Kakyoin are a unit now, intertwined and inseparable. He thinks about Abdul and how very much he misses him-- not just him, but all the intimacy between them, the quiet conversations and the excited electric shock of earning a proper grin and the coolness of the desert night as they'd talked and talked and talked about everything and nothing. He thinks about the way things had been, once, before they'd found Dio's mansion and everything had gone to hell.
All of it coils in his chest, a heavy sad weight that won't go away, and so he does what he always does: he pushes it away.]
no subject
Polnareff finally tugs off Jotaro's hat. After a moment, he tosses it over at him.]
Yours, huh?
[He's not. Or-- well, he is and he isn't, and these days there's a pretty big distinction between the two. Yours, and he thinks about the start of this conversation, about what to get Kakyoin for his birthday, about he and Jotaro being a pair. You can get things for him I can't, because Jotaro and Kakyoin are a unit now, intertwined and inseparable. He thinks about Abdul and how very much he misses him-- not just him, but all the intimacy between them, the quiet conversations and the excited electric shock of earning a proper grin and the coolness of the desert night as they'd talked and talked and talked about everything and nothing. He thinks about the way things had been, once, before they'd found Dio's mansion and everything had gone to hell.
All of it coils in his chest, a heavy sad weight that won't go away, and so he does what he always does: he pushes it away.]